"But wouldn't it have been odd," she pursued, with the air of a philosophical child, "if the frog had succeeded, and had swelled to the size of an ox?"
Mr. Andrew admitted that it would have been a phenomenon.
"But," she concluded, with an air of infantile naiveté, "it wouldn't have been anything but a great frog, would it?"
"My dear, what are you talking about?" said her aunt. "Pray eat your dinner."
"Christmas-eve is a fast-day of obligation," says Madeleine.
A little raising of three pairs of eyebrows fanned the flame. This young woman had a tongue of her own, and while the others dined she entertained them with a theological discourse, which, if not always logical, had some telling points, and which certainly did not assist the digestion of her hearers. They sat with very red faces, choking a little, but trying to appear indifferent.
"Do people take bitters with their dinner?" asked Mr. Andrew, at length. "I should think it would spoil the taste."
"I must say, Madeleine," Mrs. Hayward interposed, "that, considering you address Protestants, and that we are all friends of yours, you show very little regard for our feelings."
The best thing that could have been said. Madeleine melted at once.